


ludicrously painful enough

by sn0whoops



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, References to Depression, Suicide Attempt, THEY'LL BE HAPPY I PROMISE Y'ALL, everyone's tired here nothing more, happy ending i swear
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-08
Updated: 2020-10-08
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:15:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26726527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sn0whoops/pseuds/sn0whoops
Summary: Seungcheol has been tantalized to the point where he believes nothing can fix it completely. He’s not that good at compromising though, but one thing he truly depends on, is Junhui’s not-so-called assent, Junhui only. Other than that, he has decided to offhandedly give up—Junhui’s bright eyes has turned to seem so lackluster.
Relationships: Choi Seungcheol | S.Coups/Wen Jun Hui | Jun
Comments: 10
Kudos: 24





	ludicrously painful enough

**Author's Note:**

> not tryna be a complainer but schools still an ass im tired i miss my fellas
> 
> big thanks to my holy circle, jomblo bertaubat lolol, to always support me in every little step i take. luv u guys sm albeit none of u have ao3 acc lolol i'll drop the link for my stories peace out *heart struck*
> 
> i luv rarepairs sm now imma contribute in juncheol nation THEYRE CUTIES
> 
> //tw //cw: as ive mentioned on the tags, suicide attempt n depression, not fully researched, just googling so i apologize for any mistakes ive done, tysm <3

“I thought you like me,” Junhui managed to muster any courage left at the bottom of his aching stomach. “Like how you’ve been convincing me to trust easily.”

Seungcheol shook his head frantically, hands stretched out into their maximum length to wrap around Junhui’s chest tightly. “No no no, I always like—I always love you, Junhui. What’s the matter?”

The now looking so somber man—too sad to look at, Seungcheol felt like he was about to cry instead—stared at him pejoratively. “Am I the one who have the right to ask the same question, Seungcheol? What’s the matter _with you,_ exactly?” he sighed, two fingers massaging his nose bridge. “It’s just... did I do something wrong? You’ve never been so ignorant on me. I know you’ve been fucking busy but, can you at least tell me a tiny bit? We’re both grown-up men, Seungcheol. You know what’s better to tell and not.”

If anyone wondered how did Junhui look at the moment, he was _horrid._ Seungcheol had never seen he went so mad about something—even when he accidentally broke the Chinese’s favorite succulent pot (which had been given a name, he thought _why the fuck_ )—yet here he was, standing in a way that felt like so precarious, but Junhui’s cold and melancholic eyes held him to stay still. He was screwed up. Anything that he’d done unintentionally and hurt Junhui to the most—worse enough, he didn’t even know what it was—could be the cause of his death.

“Junhui,” he mumbled, one hand on the other’s disheveled hair, fingers stroking gently. “I’ve been good so far. There’s nothing wrong with me. Now may I ask you, what is it? Do I look somewhat different these days?”

Now Seungcheol swore to God he heard Junhui choking air out of his throat. He cried quietly on his shoulder. The warm air from the furnace didn’t help much—the tears that streaming down on his crumpled office shirt brought a freezing sensation poking into his skin. “Have I mentioned it before? You seem so ignorant. You ignore me.”

On Junhui’s unstable state like this, Seungcheol could do nothing but giving gentle pat on his back. For almost two years of their relationship, he could barely understand what his mother had lectured him about. _“It’s all about honesty and communication. The understanding comes after. Can you do that? Being honest. Your selfless side is sickening, Cheol-ah. Junnie will feel like you’re hiding something from him,”_ she’d said on his Chuseok holiday last year. Seungcheol wished he’d listened more.

“I’m not,” he defended, tone never changing, still steady and soft. “Junnie, I’m so sorry, work’s been tiring me out and—”

“You didn’t get the point, didn’t you?” Junhui cut him off, looking sternly into his eyes. Seungcheol had just realized the bright and cheerful gaze he always had on his was gone, replaced by two lackluster black dots, dark and deep like a polished obsidian. “You’re different. It’s not that I’d mind if you ignore me as if I joke around a lot and somewhat bother you, but...” he stumbled on his word, choking on the air he inhaled. Seungcheol rubbed his back.

“But you look like,” he continued but pausing mid-sentence, “you’re lacking of energy. You’re tired, I understand. But you don’t have to look like you’re tired _of me.”_

The statement that sounded like an accusation in Seungcheol’s ears brought a stinging pinch on his pancreas—he wasn’t sure but it did feel like on his pancreas. Junhui was still burning holes into his eyes, staring competition had started without anybody knowing. “Jun, I’m not, trust me.”

“Really?” he sniffled, frowning in a disapproving look. Seungcheol almost broke down on his knees if he didn’t feel the obligation to brush the sadness away from his lover’s now-so-pale face. At the utter distrust Junhui threw on him, he nodded.

“Can we sit down? Let’s talk,” Seungcheol brought Junhui to the edge of their bed, even asking him to just sit cross-legged for the sake of convenience. He rubbed his face harshly, too stressed out to sort thing like this—how long had it been since he dealt with his private life problems?

Junhui really, really looked like he could cry all night long without even listened to Seungcheol’s pep talk, however it turned out to be. “Junnie,” his boyfriend wiped a tear from his cheek, “look at me.”

He literally had been looking at Seungcheol’s face for more than ten minutes yet the other still _demanded._ “Tell me how you feel about me these days.”

Seungcheol made a wrong move, out of his calculation. Junhui sobbed louder, burying his face in his palm. Almost two years being in a relationship, eight months living in the same flat, seven years knowing each other. He didn’t know what was so wrong from his demeanor.

“Junhui,” he hugged the other tighter than before, even attempting to console him better by pressing light kisses on his hair. “Junhui, I’m so sorry. For anything I’ve done, intentionally or not. Sorry for being ignorant, I’d never be bored of you. Sorry, I shouldn’t have shown how tired I was to you. Sorry for not taking care as much as I used to. Junnie, I’m really, really sorry,” he mumbled sincerely on Junhui’s straggly hair. The other sobbed, still, getting even louder as Seungcheol gave simple affection on him.

“Seungcheol,” he whispered, voice hoarse from crying. “Can we get a holiday?”

He was sure those shit tons of damned work his manager had thrown on his desk would’ve been done by the next weekend. And so like that he nodded slightly and smiled, “Yes, yes. We can. Please wait for a little bit.”

* * *

Two more sleeping pills and a bolster propping his elbows on his thighs. Seungcheol wasn’t home yet, he’d be off on nine p.m. or even later. A too bright laptop screen beckoned him to get whatever he was on currently, done. Junhui rode back home by a bus from the restaurant on five, stumbling on his socks after walking past the door frame, forehead hitting the edge of the cabinet. Worse enough, he’d clumsily set the water too hot for his usual preference. Anything went slightly off today—it wasn’t like Junhui would complain, he’d convinced himself he was too tired from working on his thesis plus how he managed to answer all yearning messages from his friends at work.

“Hope the best for your master's degree!”

“When will you work full-time again? I miss your humorless jokes.”

“Is everything alright? You have extra eye bags, there.”

Thesis was hard but he loved what he’d been doing right now. For his own sake, he’d decided to pursue the master's degree earlier than his initial plan—Seungcheol rubbed his temple in distress at the time when he announced proudly (and timidly, simultaneously) and had him a three-hour lecture on the couch—and asked his boss if he could become a part-timer for a while. Earning an assent immediately, he’d promised that he could finish his thesis maximum in a span of one year. Two-year preparation for the master's degree wasn’t that smooth though—even Seungcheol begged him to take a short break from the classes. Junhui refused.

“When I graduate, you’ll be the one who bring the biggest flower bouquet,” he joked, nudging the other’s shoulder. But Seungcheol only gave him this particular worried stare.

Two more sleeping pills and he’d go to bed, didn’t even mind to wait for Seungcheol to come home. He did it only because he’d been _asked_ to. Seungcheol never got angry literally, the distress he piled up in the back of his head just crashed down some time. He was worried. He couldn’t forgive himself—he’d reasoned in any other day—if he felt like he’d failed to keep his boyfriend healthy and secured. Well, he was such a sweet boy. Not sweet enough since the worry in his eyes gone.

Junhui was about to pull the blanket over his abdomen when the front door opened—Seungcheol appeared a second after with untucked shirt and black coat on his folded arm. From the bed, Junhui watched the man putting his shoes off, closing the door and locking it twice, then stepping inside only to be met by the other’s little scrutiny. He grinned, welcoming, still as warm as Seungcheol could remember—despite the dark eye bags, of course.

“Junnie,” Seungcheol greeted, setting his bag on the couch before proceeding to unbutton his shirt. “Haven’t slept yet? Or did I wake you up?”

He shook his head. “I’m about to sleep, and you came. Welcome home.”

That was enough. Seungcheol’s sincere smile, even the slight one, was enough for Junhui. He could have a really nice dream tonight.

“Go sleep. I’ll take a bath,” he ruffled Junhui’s bangs. The affection never failed though—he melted under it. Seeing how he reacted into the touch, Seungcheol felt it was the sign. The dark eye bags, the lid-open laptop on the desk, the _sigh._ Junhui sighed.

“I’ll be waiting.”

Seungcheol caressed his cheek. “Are you sure?”

An affirmative nod. That was enough. Seungcheol couldn’t insist to argue more. Just then he pecked Junhui’s forehead and entered the bathroom.

Both of them hoped they could stay like this—wordless, attentive, courteous. Yet for Junhui, it was only a _wish._ Almost unreachable. He felt like about to burst into pieces.

* * *

“Jun.”

He bit back a wild sob from exploding, cheeks wet and started to feel sticky. Fingers grasping his hair, left hand holding his phone. His shoulder shuddered at the unshown emotion—he could feel how the outburst would worsen the mood. “Yes?” he forced his throat to let out anything crossed his mind. As soon as he opened his mouth, the sob flooded the caller’s ears.

“Jun,” his mother said softly. “Are you okay?”

Junhui wanted to scream a high-pitched ‘no’ but it was his mother calling, he couldn’t imagine what would happen if she knew his current breakdown. “Mom,” his breath hitched, “I’ll finish my thesis in a year.”

To be frankly speaking, Junhui could sense the smile on his mom’s face, but the sob interrupted like a little shit, only making things even more complicated. “That’s a good news. Don’t you want to work on it while spending time in Shenzhen?”

Shenzhen. It meant going home. It meant leaving Seungcheol in Seoul. It meant he could melt on his feet like a pudding under the sunlight. If being home alone was awful enough for his own liking nowadays, how could being 2,077-kilometer far was better?

Unless he had his mother. “Seungcheol has planned a holiday this week. We’ll go to Cheonju on Saturday.”

It was still Wednesday and his mother called at the wrong time. Junhui had had a handful of anti depressant and was about to shove them into his mouth when his phone rang. Luckily enough, the nth attempt failed. He’d been contemplating what’s the best for him—having himself in an eternal peace or imagining Seungcheol freaked his shit out, crying on their flat’s wood-patterned floor. Both were bad decisions, honestly. And so he put the medicine away and picked up the call.

“You didn’t sound so well. What happened?”

 _I was going to pursue my final stupid destination._ “How’s Feng Jun and dad?” he changed the topic.

“They’ve been so good lately. Do you eat well? How’s the work?”

“I’ve been a part-timer for three months to maintain my thesis with the shift. Everything’s good.”

He lied. His mom could recognize it in a mere second. “How about Seungcheol? Is he alright? He called me three days ago.”

 _Fuck me._ “Uh-huh? What did he say?” Junhui gulped quietly.

He heard a hullabaloo out of nowhere—maybe Feng Jun since the kid loved to make a scene everywhere. “He asked if he can visit us here with you. In Shenzhen. Both of you.”

So he’d known. Seungcheol foresaw everything. “Oh,” he blinked, wiping away any remaining tears from his eyes. “That’s great.”

And the call went along casually, Feng Jun even took a chance to greet his big brother. It brought a smile on his face, albeit too insincere much to his own confusion. His mother hung up only because she had a customer waiting in front of cashier. Junhui buried his face on the pillow.

High-level stress, his doctor had said. The cause could be anything, even if he didn’t have any mental breakdown before. Age factor, environment, life problem he didn’t even know what, stress in work—which was impossible since he always loved to cook for everyone and his colleagues missed him so much, he could cry a rainbow river—and debt (he’d tried remembering if he had any, but ended up crying all day long because he believed he didn’t have). What he could conclude was, the cause was unidentified or was he too dumb for this psychological matter of being an adult, and he could only rely on a small bottle of pills. Dangerous pills.

He started to have delusion occasionally.

And Seungcheol was always there, but eyes lazy and voice raspy. Junhui decided to not bother him further.

* * *

They were in a villa Seungcheol rent at the countryside of Cheonju when Junhui almost drowned himself in a lake. Seungcheol panicked—he wasn’t that good at swimming, but who cares anyway? His mind went blank completely, arms reaching Junhui’s limbs underwater, chest heaving as the oxygen filled his lungs, hair sticking into his eyes. He brushed it furiously, quickly took Junhui back on the land.

Seungcheol was unaware of that. He definitely didn’t see it coming. It was whether Junhui who stumbled on his steps as usual or was he intentionally and _fully_ aware of what he did. Seungcheol hated the second option, but he should consider it as well.

Junhui was pale. Eyes bloodshot, body shuddered from the coldness of the lake. Seungcheol hugged him from the side, offering the warmth in his arms—Junhui seemed to manage himself calm under the former’s tight embrace. Or he was actually cursing, _he failed again._

“Here,” Seungcheol handed him a big mug of hot lemon tea after making sure Junhui had changed his clothes and dried his hair. “Junnie.”

The oh so lovely name made him look up, palm warming on the mug’s side. “Yes?”

Seungcheol sighed, rubbing his forehead. “Jun, I think you shouldn’t rush on your thesis. Take your time. I suggest to take a break from the restaurant as well. I’ll talk to Jihoon to allow you,” he said. Junhui squirmed uncomfortably on the couch.

This villa had a really nice interior, even Junhui admired the furnace they provide here, not so different from theirs in Seoul (he was exaggerating, Seungcheol emphasized). He glanced at his lemon tea, slowly getting lukewarm. “I want to.”

“Rushing your thesis?”

“I’ve had two-year lecture and I’ll finish it this year,” Junhui insisted. “Seungcheol, what’s so difficult to let me be?”

A high-tension atmosphere, humid air fading as the heat from the furnace dominated, and Seungcheol hated this kind of feeling. Every time Junhui implored for something, he could never refuse that, and the other also wouldn’t admit the ‘no’ Seungcheol gave however the situation was. “I’m not being persistent about this, Jun, but you know your condition at the moment.”

“I’m fine.”

“Look at me,” Junhui felt the sudden pressure on each side of his head, forcing him to face Seungcheol directly in his sharp gaze. “You are not all right. We both know that. I might be as well, but you’re the most important right now. Do I make it clear enough?”

Junhui had remembered this particular tone like it was the lullaby he used to listen before sleeping. Seungcheol’s tone. His _demanding_ tone. Unchangeable, sounded final. He could only nod.

“You’ve been forcing yourself too hard that you almost crossed your limit,” he added. “The sleeping pills as well. You’re addicted.”

It almost felt like a freaking big harpoon had stabbed Junhui’s heart. He hated a painful truth. He somehow hated the way he behave—he didn’t feel like himself. “I’ve tried to decrease the dose.”

Another shake of Seungcheol’s head told him that he was _wrong._ “You should stop, Junnie. Do you think I’m blind? Stop consuming that freaking orange pills.”

Seungcheol was implying about his anti depressant. “I need it sometimes. I can’t help but downing more than I need to. When you’re at work and I’m alone, it feels suffocating. I want to go home, but _here_ is my home. I thought I might want to visit Shenzhen, but then my mom called, three days after you did. I was crying, that was shit. I—”

Every thing and _everything_ Seungcheol gave for him was enough, always. Seungcheol was inclined to initiate a skinship—he reasoned rather incoherently, “it gives me strength and warmth. I feel safe”—so that he hugged Junhui like a second nature, joining the other on the couch. “Junhui, you should’ve told me anything you want. Anything. I’ll be listening, even though I’m tired as fuck—I know that suck but still—I will always listen to you. I’m not here for nothing, you know?” he whispered on Junhui’s hair.

“Ew. Cringe.” Junhui giggled a bit, head trembling as well. Seungcheol followed suit.

“Now tell me,” he drummed his fingers on Junhui’s head, “did you trip or do it on purpose?”

Oh. That.

“I don’t know. I felt like the water is calming, so I let myself broke down on my feet.” The sentence was barely audible. Seungcheol caught it as a sign, as what he’d been observed from his boyfriend.

That pair of cheerful and bright eyes had turned to seem so lackluster and Seungcheol was afraid.

* * *

Last year, August 7, 9.47 p.m.

Mingyu patted Junhui’s shoulder before exclaiming a cheerful, “Hope it works! You even spent three hours alone for his birthday.”

Junhui swiftly marched outside the kitchen, sparing a few seconds only to flash a smile at his cooking partner. “Thanks. Anyway, don’t forget your frozen salad, you’ve been keeping it in our fridge for two days,” he pointed at the said fridge. Mingyu grinned sheepishly.

“Jun!” the other followed him until to the parking lot, hands cupping around his mouth to make his voice louder, “tell him you love him, okay? Insist, if you know what I mean.” Then he added a rather nasty wink. Junhui grimaced at the sight of his junior.

“Dammit, Mingyu,” he choked on his spit, laughing. “Yeah, I will. I’d love to. Mind your own business, will you? I gotta go, later!” Junhui got inside his car, watching Mingyu giggling cheekily thirty-feet away there. When he managed to pull into the road, he caught a glimpse of Mingyu still waving his hands wildly in the air. He chuckled.

Two and half hours to Seungcheol’s birthday, and Junhui’d prepared everything since a week ago (with Mingyu’s help since the latter was literally bigger and stronger than him, he needed a porter) only for his little surprise later. Junhui finished his late shift and got home very quickly, hands rummaging on the counter, setting the ‘Little Dinner for Seungcheol When He Just Gets Home’—Mingyu’d suggested it—with an impatient and nervous smile engraved on his face.

Junhui’d never been feeling so nervous and excited about something romantic, but here he was.

##### Mr. Gummy Smile

_im otw rn, wait for a lil bit junnie_

The way he named Seungcheol’s contact was indeed ridiculous but the number owner didn’t mind though. And the way Seungcheol always used ‘Junnie’ when he addressed him, was somehow endearing and he could jump off of their flat’s balcony while screaming out, “Seungcheol’s my boyfie!” But he’d rather not to. He loved his life.

_For now._

The clock annoyed him with the ticking sound, threatening the qualm to bulge inside his chest. It was 10.21 already, and if he wasn’t mistaken, based on the last message Seungcheol sent, he should be home on 10.10 or just a little bit later.

Well, Junhui wasn’t a type of paranoid or possessive person over his own boyfriend.

Except when he blankly stared at the flat’s front parking lot, catching the sight of Seungcheol walking across it to the entrance, but a man from a silver Mercedes following him. He frowned.

Junhui used Seungcheol’s car today, since he won the silly rock-paper-scissors bet to determine who’d go to work by bus last night. But it seemed like Seungcheol got a lift from someone.

Their flat was on the thirteenth floor, of course he couldn't hear their conversation. The dimmed street lamp and his somewhat poor eyesight from the cold night breeze didn’t help whatsoever. Yet, he knew the man.

Yoon Jeonghan.

Junhui stood still, staring, observing. He knew Jeonghan. The aforesaid man was also his senior in high school, indeed Seungcheol’s close friend, and it occurred to him—Jeonghan and Seungcheol had gotten themselves into trouble on their senior year by smoking and drinking illegally behind the school.

Oh, one of his partner of shenanigans.

They still had a bit of talk before Seungcheol waved his hand. Jeonghan, with his fluorescent yellow jacket—he stood out like a sore thumb, Junhui thought—laughed and waved back. But he added a last tiny farewell for his late company.

He pecked Seungcheol’s cheek, rushed and a little bit unpredictable, referring to Seungcheol’s incredulous face. But then again, they laughed. And like that, the Mercedes drove off and Seungcheol was gone from Junhui’s sight. He must’ve got inside then.

Junhui wanted to drown himself in the bathtub right now.

* * *

Apparently, Seungcheol found it irresistible to tease and annoy his dead serious boyfriend when he was sticking his nose into his laptop, the thesis draft shown proudly and a little bit too bright much to his liking. They’d planned the holiday in Cheonju for one hundred percent healing and relaxing, but of course, Junhui broke his own plan.

“Junnie,” Seungcheol played with Junhui’s bangs, arms hanging loosely on his shoulders while the antics victim groaned. “You said you want a holiday, here we are. I know it’s urgent for you but can you please, take a relaxed seat and enjoy the fresh air?” he patted the younger’s cheek playfully. “You’re scary when you’re serious.”

“Seungcheol,” Junhui whined childishly. “I’ll finish this paragraph and stop, I promise.”

Cheonju was a nice city to spend a short break from work, with still green rice fields as the base scenery around here, shady road from the gigantic trees, functioning like a canopy above it. Seungcheol wanted to go to Daegu, but it meant it’s just him who went home so he cancelled his initial intention. Meanwhile Junhui, as childish as he was (still), had insisted that Daegu was totally fine.

Of course it’s fine. As if Seungcheol didn’t know how much dose of anti depressant Junhui’d been consuming to mask his stressful and dead-looking gaze.

“I’m finished.” He heard the sound of closing lid before an absurd noise when Junhui shoved his laptop into his backpack. “I’m actually sleepy,” Junhui yawned.

“Let’s go to sleep then,” he excitedly pulled Junhui by his waist to bring him down on the bed, face to face and giggling their lungs out. It’d been a long time since he saw Junhui laughing a little bit too overjoyed, unlike his nowadays behalf.

Dark room, humid air, a concrete warmth from the heater on one side of the wall, and the crickets’ sound. Very much resembled a forest night life, the calmness nature offered to everyone who gracefully enjoyed it. Seungcheol saw the faint light of the crescent outside, peeking trough the window. He saw Junhui’s almost-closed eyes, drowsiness threatening to bring him away. And he stopped that.

A heavy sigh before he started, “May I ask you, what’s been bothering you nowadays, Junnie?”

Junhui put his phone under his pillow, eyes finding for Seungcheol’s. “My thesis?”

Seungcheol shook his head. “No, there must be another thing.”

“You?” he shrugged hesitantly before sinking deeper into the comfy bed. Seungcheol coughed abruptly.

“You can tell me, you know it, right?”

“Mm-hm.”

“And will you?”

“Nope,” Junhui replied rather too quickly and without thinking, but then corrected himself, “half yes, half no.”

Humid air yet warm bed. Seungcheol felt like home. “Do you come to see your doctor often?”

Junhui nodded slightly. “Do you tell him everything?” He shook his head then. “If I ask you once again, will you tell me how do you feel about me, Junhui?”

Oh, he didn’t use the lovely name. He was _being_ serious. “It depends,” Junhui exhaled, breath almost hitched. Just a second after, Seungcheol stroked his fingers gently on his boyfriend’s hair. “Tell me then. Anything,” he whispered, causing a painful sting on Junhui’s heart.

If Seungcheol was Junhui’s everything for the last two years, then he felt like about to lose his soul and sanity. The unseen, unacknowledged distance, tired eyes, heavy and raspy voice, feet trudging throughout their living room. Junhui had seen all of them pretty often and he decided to hate them with all of his heart. He swore he could crumble on his knees if he saw the sight longer. Head and heart throbbed from the reminiscent, Junhui didn’t realize the tears on his cheeks. Seungcheol gasped, while the other felt a warmth and soft palm on his face, wiping them away.

For each tear he’d dropped tonight, absorbed into his pillow, he swore—Seungcheol, his hopefully first and last boyfriend, love of his life, his pillar, his strength—to vanish all of the depression he had for the last eight months. He’d love to promise for no sleeping pills anymore, for Seungcheol’s tired gaze to be lost, for his mother to not worry about him too much. Yes, he really would love to. But anything just seemed too blurry and out of reach nowadays—his scattered, lethargic mind refused any incoming positivity.

Junhui sobbed quietly, nearly hiccupping as he felt his breath become shorter and harsher. The warmth of Seungcheol’s palm lingered on his cheek, but the light pressure wasn’t gone either, possibly minding if the tears could stain the sheet anytime. Different thought, different current feelings, different assumption. They were stuck in their own mind without even intending to sound it out loud.

The memory— _memories_ —stabbed Junhui right on his heart, aching worse than before.

* * *

Last year, September 25, 9.52 p.m.

“What are you doing here? Haven’t slept yet?”

Junhui scowled. “I might ask you the same question, sir. What are you doing right _there_ , with _him,_ at this late hour?” he pointed toward the parking lot, eyes piercing into Seungcheol’s disheveled hair and crumpled front side shirt—probably because he was supposed to tuck it previously—and jaw clenching. Seungcheol felt small under his gaze.

“Junnie, what are you doing down here in the lobby?” Seungcheol didn’t answer. Junhui was extremely exasperated to the point where he was about to throw his slippers toward his boyfriend’s face.

“You were with Jeonghan earlier.”

Seungcheol was agape, indeed.

“And you were with him _again,_ tonight, with his motherfucking glamorous Mercedes-Benz.” The other crossed his arms, not minding some curious stares at the sight of his sleeping outfit—a loose-tied robe and a pair of silk pajama pants—while toe knocking on the floor impatiently. “Seungcheol.”

“Honey, can we talk inside? It’s cold here, we should—”

“Don’t try to make a scene,” Junhui snapped. Seungcheol startled, seeing how his jaw dropped once again, but he was more surprised by the sight in front of his eyes.

Junhui and his rushing tears all the way to his cheeks, and then jaws, and eventually, his chin before dripping onto his robe. As everyone had known, Seungcheol would beat anyone up if it was Junhui who’d been the victim, but at the moment, he supposed it was _him._ He caused those tears. He made Junhui cry, tonight, when Jeonghan gave him another lift since his BMW was in reparation and having a late bus drive wasn’t a great idea.

Oh to be quick-witted enough so he wouldn’t cause all of this mess and fucking misunderstanding.

When he hugged Junhui tightly, there wasn’t a single curse nor angry habits the other had for him only. Junhui cried on his shoulder—perhaps his neck was going to have a sore spot for bending too long on someone shorter than him—sobbing messily with arms tightening around Seungcheol’s neck.

They’d been living in this flat for a year and the securities were aware of the couple’s routine and some overdramatic scenes, so when they stayed like that—literally in the middle of lobby where the employee behind the desk was watching with curious yet pitiful eyes—no one interfered.

“Why did he kiss you?” Junhui laid himself on the bed as comfortable as he could manage, observing Seungcheol who was still wiping his face with a towel. The question target—or the accused one here—choked on his next breath.

“Jeonghan?” he turned around, frowning. Junhui stared at him expectantly as if implying, _‘Who else?’_

“He’s crazy,” was a lame answer and Junhui didn’t buy it. “He was being playful, you know him. He’s literally the cheekiest friend I’ve ever had, he was playing with me. You know he didn’t mean to make it sincere or involve _feelings,_ ” Seungcheol explained.

_Lame._

“I’m planning to start my thesis next year,” Junhui blurted all of a sudden. Which, of course, earned a somewhat over-shocked face from Seungcheol.

“Next year? But, Junnie, it means you’ll be rushing your lectures this year and start the thesis too early?” he sat next to Junhui’s sprawled out figure, towel hanging on his shoulder, hair wet and the other could smell the strong menthol scent. Junhui shrugged nonchalantly at the guess.

“What’s wrong about that? Everyone can finish their master’s degree in 1,5 years, so why wouldn’t I? I’m not rushing things, Seungcheol, I feel like I’m capable enough to start my thesis. Furthermore, I’ve been consulting with this professor—whoever he is, you won’t remember his name—he said I can start next year.”

Seungcheol exhaled harshly. “You literally graduated last year, your bachelor degree on hands and you decided to work in the restaurant, and now you’ve been planning on finishing it as soon as possible. Don’t you think you’re forcing yourself?”

“Don’t you think you’re being off-limits?” he quipped, furrows knitting. Seungcheol went dead silent.

“Junnie, the doctor said you need to rest more to maintain your immune.” And that wasn’t the best of convincing from Seungcheol, he admitted. “You get sick easily lately,” he added, feeling defeated already.

Junhui didn’t like rejection, and so did Seungcheol. But between them two, Junhui was the absolute winner. And here, on their bed, eyes wandering around and avoiding the other’s, head full of thought and heart beating a little bit off of the rhythm. And so like that, Junhui stated rather boldly as if no one, even the president, could stop him from his super-mega project named _thesis._

“I’m going to work on my thesis on February, maybe April if things go slightly different from my rundown. And I hope you’ll support me to the fullest because I ain’t gonna get it done if I get a mental breakdown amidst the process.”

Seungcheol stared for long, so long only God knows when he would stop and cut the eye contact. Then he joined Junhui, laying only inches away from him, hand reaching for his face. The other stared back, somehow synchronizing their breath in a same rhythm, leaning into Seungcheol’s touch fondly. Both of them, not knowing that they were feeling the same right now, just realized how long the time had passed—watching the days gone, sinking themselves into their cacophonic agendas, repeating over and over like a dilapidated tape. The atmosphere felt unnecessarily odd—Seungcheol’s hair scent blended well with Junhui’s soft, romantic-like cologne scent. And things around them started to melt down into Junhui’s bottommost hollow in his head.

Seungcheol never said anything after the statement. Yet Junhui knew the answer, definitely.

* * *

Villa in Cheonju, 11.41 p.m.

Junhui was still crying. Sobbing quietly as he bit his lower lip too hard, the crease on his forehead barely unnoticed by Seungcheol. He caressed his cheek fondly, just like the old times before everything went haywire and uncontrollable. And one thing Junhui learned from tonight’s pillow talk: Seungcheol loved him, always, never changed even once, and in the name of any local deities they believed, he would always be.

“I hope you feel what I feel about you, Junnie,” Seungcheol whispered, too soft much to Junhui’s broken sanity at the moment. Sweats on his forehead dripped onto Junhui’s face.

The exhale Junhui managed to let out was heavy and shaky. His arms grasped his boyfriend’s shoulders for support, chest heaving wildly, his cries turning into a string of stuttered version of Seungcheol’s name.

“Shh,” Junhui felt Seungcheol’s lips on his, warm and wet. He closed his eyes, almost squealed Seungcheol’s name again, but the name owner kissed deeper, calming him down. When their breath went regular and even again, Seungcheol left Junhui’s lips, smiling. “Just want to ensure you that I won’t look away from you no matter what. If you still think about Jeonghan, it isn’t like I will deny or else, but really, he—”

“Seungcheol,” this time, the name was said clearly even though a bit breathless, “I trust you. Stop blabbering.”

He still remained smiling while Junhui forced himself to reciprocate it. “Jeonghan’s had a boyfriend, you know? He did that because his boyfriend was in the backseat, watching us. Well, you know how he is. A literal definition of evil,” Seungcheol chuckled, his lips vibrated over Junhui’s.

Junhui thought he would’ve jumped off to the lake once again.

“So...” another shaky voice and sniffling, “he did that to make his man jealous?”

What a cute question. “Perhaps. Besides, they’re beyond happy now,” Seungcheol moved a bit and Junhui felt his world melt down onto his trembling knees. “Aren’t we happy as well, Junnie?”

No more sleeping pills, no more silly attempt on ending his own life, no more accusation toward Seungcheol. He needed to tell his doctor that he’d stop meeting him from now on. “I suppose,” Junhui smiled weakly. Seungcheol moved again, then he heard a strangled scream—his name.

“Promise me you won’t do this again, Junnie.”

“I promise.”

“Do I have your words?”

Junhui nodded immediately, chest heaving again, wilder this time. His tears and sweats had mixed into a gross coat all over his face and body, but Seungcheol would never mind. “Yes, yes, you have ‘em.”

“I love you,” he kissed Junhui once again before his nails bruising the other’s skin. “I love you so much, I swear to God.”

“You can’t swear to God in the time like this,” Junhui quipped, half joking. They both laughed, despite the fact that Junhui had already broken down into another messed up state. “I love you too. I hate you, Seungcheol. I love you as much as I hate you for making me this worried.”

“Sorry.”

When the day passed, the clock showing 1.05 a.m., they still laughed and didn’t even remember they’d screamed their lungs out, sweaty and sticky and gross. Junhui’s hair was a mess, but Seungcheol was way messier. The blanket over them somehow judged.

“So, who’s Jeonghan’s boyfriend?” Junhui asked curiously. Seungcheol hummed, eyes closed, fingers stroking the hair on Junhui’s nape.

“My co-worker.”

“Who? Jeon Wonwoo?”

“No,” he giggled while Junhui snuggled up on his neck, “the man from US, Joshua.”

“Oh.”

“Oh,” Seungcheol agreed. “They’ve been sharing room though. It’s us who are busy with our problems. They’re too happy for a new couple. Hope you can meet this Joshua dude soon—he’s kinda humorless but he’s scary when it comes to Jeonghan. That’s why you saw my overdramatic shocked face when Jeonghan kissed me on the cheek, that night.”

Again, Junhui gawked. “Oh.” A second after, he barked, “Then why had you been so ignorant earlier? Was it another thing then?”

Seungcheol shook his head. “I haven’t told you, haven’t I? It’s... a work problem. When you’ve started your thesis and decided to be a part-timer for a while, at the same time the CEO made a stupid deal with this incompetent law firm, which had affected most of the employees about our salary and work time. I’m just tired, that’s all.”

That’s it. That’s the main problem. That’s the root of all these nonsense. Just little did they know, they were all tired. Seungcheol had been tantalized to the point where he believe nothing can fix it completely, when he was being spat one night, shoulders heavy and eyes lazy to barely open. He knew Junhui was mad—his eye bags told everything more than he realized it did—but he wasn’t sure how to sort things out. He wasn’t that good at compromising though, but one thing he truly depends of, was Junhui’s not-so-called assent, Junhui only. Other than that, he had decided to offhandedly give up—Junhui’s bright eyes had turned to seem so lackluster, for the last eight months of a breakdown he didn’t recognize for such a long time.

But surely, he could fix this unwanted problem, per se. Because right now, in one particular villa Junhui’d chosen a week before their impromptu holiday, after a long night talk and explanation and begging and crying and laughing, Junhui finally understood the matter.

It seemed like thing would be better, the sooner the better.

* * *

Last year, August 7, 10.22 p.m.

“Thanks for the lift,” Seungcheol raised a thumb up to Jeonghan on the driver seat, trying so hard not to shrink under the other man’s threatening glare from the backseat. He gulped once he stepped out of the car.

“Hey hey!” Jeonghan followed suit, which Seungcheol heard just clearly enough that the _man_ —Joshua, his co-worker for the last five months, somehow ended up in the corporation he also worked at meanwhile US literally had _anything_ for him—snorted sharply.

“The fuck?” he whispered in an utter panic, gesturing vaguely above his head. “Don’t step closer. I feel like this dude will choke me to the death if you dare to talk to me.”

Jeonghan shrugged, obviously not listening, like a bitch he was. “I’m testing him, you know? He’s basically a newbie in our corporation and while flirting not-so-obviously with me, how could he threaten you like you’d suck my face all night long? I need to figure things out before stepping further, y’know what I’m talking about?”

Seungcheol was fucked up.

“Do not ever involve me into your shenanigans, moreover if it’s about _him!”_ he shout-whispered and pointed toward Joshua in the car. The cold night breeze brushed their hair off.

“Relax, it’s not like he will kick your ass here.”

“Oh, he will. Tomorrow, in my cubicle, jeez.”

The other laughed mockingly—Seungcheol felt terribly offended, but Jeonghan was _indeed_ Jeonghan, he couldn’t agree more—before starting to talk some rubbishes. “Tomorrow’s your happy day, man, cheer up! Have some beers, do a toast with your boyfriend, you understand? Just chill a little bit, you’re turning older, grandpa,” he blabbered. Seungcheol felt something horrible will come.

“Uh...” he laughed nervously, definitely the contrast of Jeonghan’s earlier. “Thanks, will do. You too.”

“That’s lame, Cheol,” he scoffed at his bad attempt. “Anyways, good night. Make sure Junnie is up until midnight, okay?” and an unnecessary wink as an addition. Seungcheol was sure Joshua had been burning himself down on the backseat.

“Yeah,” Seungcheol sighed, “okay.” He waved, “Good night.”

But Jeonghan’s peck on his cheeks freaked the shit out of him, his face automatically went utterly shocked and scared, the kind of weird mixture that he would admit right away. Jeonghan laughed—ensuring this time, like he was saying, _‘Trust me you won’t die tonight!’_ —and so he laughed along, shaky and anxious. Just then, he waved back, really bid a goodbye.

“Good night, Seungcheol!”

And when Seungcheol got home, he found Junhui nowhere to be seen, but sitting in a dry bathtub, hands holding a can of beer, blank stare thrown at him when he showed up at the door.

“Hi, Seungcheol.”

Seungcheol knew he’d had another problem to be solved immediately—whether he knew how to negotiate (or compromise) or not, he should fix it. Sooner or later, he knew, he foresaw everything, that Junhui would do things out of his control, and that was just too horrid to imagine.

**Author's Note:**

> this is a mess im so sorry i just need to write AN ANGST of juncheol just bcs...sorry (anyway im crying bcs of 95 & 96L teaser images for semicolon just slap me theyre so fine)
> 
> im weak for juncheol n soonhui or basically me cryin over jun x everyone
> 
> wth i cried writing this fic *sob* I LITERALLY WROTE THIS WHILE LISTENING TO [conan gray - heather](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=24u3NoPvgMw) which had given me a proper atmosphere to cry over this angsty shit i mean what the hell junnie what i've done to u bub T-T
> 
> kudos n comments are very much appreciated!  
> agree w me senior year is hARd uGH
> 
> [edit 201023] i wanna cry a river go watch [home;run fanchant](https://youtu.be/vLL2KdSVoSU) cz jihoon is hyping here n JUNCHEOL  
> STAND BESIDE EACH OTHER, CHEOL SLUNG HIS ARM AROUND JUNS SHOULDERS HSHSJAKALAHGGG


End file.
